She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she raised a cloth bundle toward him. “This will give you something to eat on the trail. I put some ginger root in there, too. If either of you feels sick, steep it in water and drink.”
She glanced over at Mato, and Reuben followed her gaze. The smaller man still looked weak, but most of the color was back in his face, and he sat straighter on his horse than when he’d arrived. He’d not vomited since the effort to move him to the house last night, and he’d eaten both bread and potatoes this morning. Not to mention all the tea and water Cathleen had plied him with.
It’d been good to see his friends, to hear news about the rest of the band as he and Akecheta had talked last night. He was sorry to see them go, although he did feel some relief that they were taking away the risk for contamination to Mum and Cathleen.
Akecheta raised a hand in farewell, then spoke in his native language. “Take care, Napayshni.”
Reuben bit back a grin at his old Crow name. Akecheta had donned him Courageous One when Reuben saved him from a brawl with a mountain lion the first time they’d met. He opened his mouth to reply, but Akecheta spoke first.
“The next time we meet, you will have made this woman your squaw. My people will like her. They will show kindness as she has done.”
It took everything in Reuben not to choke on the breath he’d just inhaled, but he struggled to school his features. It was a good thing Cathleen couldn’t understand a word the man said.
He did his best to stay solemn as he answered the man. “She is not my squaw. She comes from a far land and must go back there. She does not fit with the life of a trapper.”
Akecheta raised his brows the slightest bit, but it was more than enough to show how little he believed Reuben’s words. “She looks to me like she fits well.”
The man turned to Cathleen and said in clear English. “Thank you, Kitsakike.” Then he reined his horse around, and Mato followed suit.
Cathleen stepped back beside him as they watched the pair ride from the yard. After a long moment, she spoke. “What did he say?”
Akecheta’s words about Cathleen being his squaw rang in Reuben’s ears, but he kept his tone casual. “He called you One Who Heals.”
She cut her eyes to him. “What did he say before that?”
A smile tugged at Reuben’s mouth, but he held it back. This woman was far too insightful. But if she thought he’d divulge Akecheta’s comments, she was sadly mistaken.
“Reuben?” Her voice had an insistent tone, but it only piqued at the smile he was trying to hold in.
“He said Thank You.” And with that, he turned and headed toward the barn.
As her frustrated grunt followed him, he could picture the image she made. Hands on her hips, that pert mouth pinched. Adorable.
~ ~ ~
REUBEN WORKED ON his furs the rest of the morning, scraping every spot until the leather was as soft and pliable as a newborn babe. As soft as the flawless skin on Cathleen’s face. But that line of thinking would only get him into trouble.
Unfortunately, the hours working by himself gave his mind too much time to think. He’d spent the first part of the morning playing back Akecheta’s words and wondering if he had half a chance of really winning Cathleen’s heart. She seemed open enough to him, but would she really be satisfied with life as a trapper’s wife? Even if he gave up his winter camp and took over this homestead for the rest of his life, could she be happy here, so far from any form of civilization? It was different from everything she knew. She may think she liked it now, but she would grow tired of it soon. The endless work to accomplish the simplest of tasks—like cooking a meal, or making lye soap. It was hard. Even though he’d never experienced life in a big city like Boston, things had to be easier there.
He couldn’t ask her to leave all that. It simply wasn’t fair to her. And if he forced her to choose, her answer would surely be the life she’d been raised to love.
So that left him with two options. He could leave these mountains that were so much a part of him and move to the city with her…or he could let her go. And that decision was what he’d been sorting through as he worked the last three skins.
Staying tied to the homestead would be bad enough, but leaving the mountains? Other than a few trips to the eastern edge of the Montana Territory, he’d never been out of sight of these peaks. Did they even have mountains in Boston? Probably not. Cathleen had said something about a beach, which must mean it was beside the ocean. Mum had told stories of seeing the Atlantic when she was a girl, and the thought of that much water all rolling and pitching made his skin shiver.
Could he do it for Cathleen? Leave these mountains and live where he had to look at that much water every day? Yes, if that’s what she wanted, he would do it. But how could he support them? Certainly not by hunting and trapping, or even farming the way Pa’d tried to teach him. With all those people packed together, there wouldn’t be room to run enough cattle to earn a living. So what then? He was decent at fishing, but he had a feeling a trotline wasn’t going to work in the great Atlantic Ocean.
He allowed a long sigh to leak from him as he rubbed harder at a thick spot on the Marten pelt in his hand.
None of this really mattered if Cathleen didn’t want him. And why would she? A homespun mountain man. Uncultured and uncivilized. He’d probably embarrass her the first time they stepped off the train.
No. Their worlds were too far apart. It wouldn’t ever work. Even if she thought she had feelings for him now, they would die away soon enough when she saw how he didn’t fit in her sphere.
So that left him with only one remaining option. He had to let her go.
Even though the thought of her leaving pressed his heart rate faster, it was the only choice left. The right choice, if he set his own desires aside and focused on what was best for Cathleen. He swallowed hard. That’s what he had to do.
As frustration mounted in his chest, he pushed up from the work table and grabbed his rifle. He’d had too much time alone with this thoughts. Maybe some fresh air would clear his head.
And if he brought home a couple grouse for supper, Cathleen might appreciate the variety.
Chapter Nineteen
CATHLEEN PUSHED THE door closed on the chicken shed and set the bar, then grabbed her empty slop bucket and hurried back toward the house. The temperature was dropping quickly again. She’d been wrong about snow the other day, but Reuben had commented on the possibility of a winter storm this evening. She pulled her coat tighter around her neck.
He was still in the barn, where’d he’d spent most of the time since his Crow friends left the morning before. Except for that unexpected hunting trip he’d made yesterday. The fresh meat had been nice, but with the huge stock pile of meat he’d brought when he first arrived, they hardly needed it.
It had probably been good for him to get out by himself though. He’d been extra quiet since Akecheta and Mato left, and she couldn’t find a clue why. In time, though. He’d share in time.
As she pushed open the cabin door, warmth from the cook stove blasted her face. Had she put too much wood in the firebox? Hopefully her cornbread wasn’t burning.
She slipped her coat off and turned to hang it on a peg, but movement from the stove caught her attention.
“No!” She lunged forward to stop Mrs. Scott from reaching her bare hand into the oven.
But she was too late.
“Ahh.” The woman pulled back from the opening, dropping a cast iron skillet full of cornbread onto the oven door with a clatter. “Oh.”
Cathleen reached the woman and grasped her shoulders, pulling her back from the intense heat pouring from the opening.
“My hand.” Mrs. Scott’s voice held a hint of disbelief as she raised the palm that had gripped the skillet’s handle. Bright red marred the skin, and there was a faint smell of burning flesh.
A sob climbed into Cathleen’s own throat, but she swallowed it down. Water. She had to
stop the pain that was surely starting to radiate through the dear woman’s hand.
A bucket of fresh creek water sat near the counter, where she’d been planning to boil beans for supper. She sloshed some into a bowl and whirled back to the table.
“Sit here, Mum. Put your hand in this water to stop the burning.”
Mrs. Scott’s shuffle to the chair was painfully slow, and the groan as her hand sank into the clear liquid tightened the knot in Cathleen’s chest. How had she let this happen? Mrs. Scott was her responsibility, and she couldn’t seem to keep the woman from injury.
What else could she do for the burn? Maybe her brother had packed a burn salve in the medicine box. Lord, show me what to do. If she didn’t have salve, what should she put on it? Lard? She’d heard a midwife mention that one time, but she’d never tried it as a remedy for burns.
“Sit here and keep your hand in the water, all right?” Cathleen pressed a palm to Mrs. Scott’s shoulder until the woman looked up at her.
“I’ll be fine, dear.” But her eyes were glassy, and her chin quivered with the words. She was most definitely not fine.
Near the bottom of the wooden box, she found a small tin of salve, and the sight tightened her already-tense emotions. Thank you, Lord. She grabbed the medicine and a rolled bandage, then turned back to face Mrs. Scott.
~ ~ ~
REUBEN PULLED OFF his leather work gloves as he stepped onto the porch. When he’d seen Cathleen hurry from the chicken shed a few minutes ago, it had been the final straw of guilt to force him out of the barn. As much as he needed to keep his distance from the bewitching woman, he still couldn’t shirk his duty to help around the place.
She’d had almost sole care of his mother for two days straight now, and she deserved more of a break than a quick trip to see the chickens.
When he opened the door, heat hit his face. The two women sat at the kitchen table, and the stove door hung open. No wonder it was so hot in there. He left the cabin door ajar and shrugged out of his coat, then turned to hang it on the wall peg.
“Reuben, I…”
Something about the catch in Cathleen’s voice spun him around to face them. She was crying. Her hands held a white strip of cloth she’d been wrapping around Mum’s hand. As he peered closer, large tears rolled down his mother’s cheeks, too.
“What happened?” He reached the table in two strides, then touched Mum’s bony shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Cathleen inhaled a shaky breath. “She burned herself…pulling cornbread from the oven.”
He turned to glance at the stove door. A cast iron skillet lay cock-eyed, half on the rack and half on the door. The pan still held a dark brown chunk that must have been cornbread. It was a wonder the stuff hadn’t caught fire yet, so near the flames. He grabbed a leather pad and scooped up the pan, then set it safely on the work counter. Once he’d shut the oven door, he turned back to the women.
Cathleen’s teary gaze met his. “I was coming in from feeding scraps to the chickens. She’d been knitting. I didn’t think she’d try…” Her words trailed off as another big drop ran down her cheek.
A small voice in his mind warned against it, but he couldn’t stop his body from skirting the table and kneeling beside her. When he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she leaned into him, more tears slipping down her cheeks and splashing onto his shirt.
She sniffed hard, then straightened in her chair. “I’m sorry. Your mum’s the one who’s hurt. I just can’t believe I let this happen. I gave her something for the pain, and now we’re doctoring it to keep out infection.”
He turned to focus on his mother. “How you doin’, Mum?”
“All right, honey. I’m all right.” Her voice quivered more than usual, but that was surely to be expected.
He looked back to Cathleen, stroking a finger across her shoulder, where his hand still rested. “What can I do?”
She sniffed again, then focused on wrapping Mum’s hand. “I’m almost done here. I’ll make her some willow bark tea so she can sleep. That will probably help more than anything.”
Tea. He could at least get the water started for that. He pushed to his feet and got to work.
~ ~ ~
REUBEN SAT BY himself at the supper table that night, eating beans and piping hot cornbread—a fresh batch Cathleen whipped together. The murmur of voices sounded from Mum’s room as Cathleen helped her eat supper from bed. It was Mum’s right hand that had been burned and was now bandaged tight, which meant she’d have even more trouble doing simple tasks, like feeding herself.
So he sat alone. Being alone shouldn’t bother him. Not the man who spent his life on his own.
But the two women who meant the most to him in the world sat on the other side of that door, and he was excluded. Make that the one woman who meant the most to him, and another he was trying to force his stubborn heart to ignore.
The door squeaked on its hinges, and Cathleen stepped through, carrying a tray.
“How’s she feeling?” The question gave him an excuse to turn and watch her as she moved to the work counter.
“Holding her own. I can tell the hand pains her, but she’s keeping a cheerful spirit.” A sigh leaked out of her. “I just hate she’s suffering from it.”
“Cathy, this was not your fault.” He’d not meant to use the nickname, but it slipped out.
She didn’t turn to look at him, but her shoulders stiffened as she paused from unloading the tray. “I shouldn’t have left the cabin.”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Obstinate woman. “You’re not here to be a prisoner. I put the lock on the door so you could step outside when you need to. Mum may not be of sound mind anymore, but she’s still her own person. You can’t keep her wrapped in a safe cocoon all the time. It’s just not possible.” His voice rose more than he’d intended, and he clamped his mouth shut. Maybe something he’d said would sink in.
She didn’t answer. Didn’t turn to face him, just went back to putting used dishes in the wash bucket.
He pushed up from the table. He wasn’t getting anywhere here, so he might as well move on to evening chores.
~ ~ ~
CATHLEEN STARED OUT the cabin’s little window as the white glimmer of snow flurries fell in the darkness. Reuben had been silent when he came in from feeding the animals. Now he was in his Mum’s room, and the rich tenor of his voice drifted occasionally through the open door. She could only hear its rumble though, couldn’t distinguish what he said.
His words had been painful earlier, even though he’d probably meant them to help her feel better. Was she trying to bundle Mrs. Scott in a safe little cocoon where the world couldn’t affect her? Whether she was trying or not, she obviously wasn’t succeeding.
What happened to her lofty goals of letting the woman age with dignity and grace? There’d been nothing graceful about the incident earlier. How did she find the balance between allowing Mrs. Scott independence and being there when the woman needed her?
“I think Her Highness is asleep.”
Cathleen whirled at the masculine voice as Reuben closed the chamber door behind him. His hair had an untamed look to it tonight, and a shadow of two or three days’ stubble covered his jaw. It all made him look so attractive, her insides tightened. She forced the thoughts aside to focus on his words. “Her Highness?”
His mouth tipped a little at one corner. “I called her that sometimes when I was young. Not when she was around, of course. Pa would wrap an arm around her and call her his queen. So it became a little joke between me and Pa. Anytime she wasn’t nearby, that’s what I called her.”
She couldn’t help a little smile at the image of a half-size Reuben with his Pa. “You’re lucky, you know. Having so much alone time with your parents. With four kids in the house, the only moments I ever had dad to myself was in the apothecary shop. And there he was always distracted with customers.”
His gaze narrowed as it met hers, something undefinable in the dark blue shad
ows cast by the lamplight.
Thinking over what she’d said, she realized she probably sounded ungrateful. “My folks were good parents, mind you. I didn’t mean it to sound like they weren’t. There just wasn’t a lot of quiet time. Especially with two brothers.” She scrunched her nose to lighten the mood, but Reuben’s expression didn’t change. “You’re lucky, is all. That’s what I was trying to say.”
“Yeah, lucky.”
She almost missed the mumbled words as he turned away from her.
~ ~ ~
THE NEXT DAY, Cathleen watched the shirtwaist swirl amidst the soapy bubbles in the water bucket at the sink. Peaceful quiet had fallen over the place this afternoon, except for North’s gentle pant as he lay at her feet. The cabin was likely too warm for him with his thick winter coat, but he’d become such a dear friend. If he didn’t complain about staying in the warmth, she certainly wasn’t going to force him outside.
Did Reuben miss the dog as a constant companion? It didn’t seem to bother him that she and North had bonded. Of course, Reuben had kept himself secluded in the barn for days now. How would she know if he was upset or not, when he stayed so distant?
He probably did have a lot of work to do out there. And the two snowfalls they’d had in the last few days surely added more chores with the animals. But it was more than that. She could feel his distance when he came in for meals. The way he stayed outside until the last possible moment, then wouldn’t meet her gaze at the table. He’d come in several times to sit with his mum, always making sure Cathleen spent the moments outside for a breath of fresh air.
So what had changed, that he didn’t want to be near her anymore? After that first kiss, she knew he felt at least something for her. Had she offended him? Maybe it was the way she’d argued against his wishes about not bringing his friends into the cabin that night. But he must know that if someone needed her help, she had to give it.
The Lady and the Mountain Call (Mountain Dreams Series Book 5) Page 15
